American Epidemic Omnibus: An Ebola Prepper Survival Tale
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American Epidemic Omnibus
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Table of Contents
American Epidemic: Surviving the Outbreak
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Prologue: An Urgent Message
Base 42
Public Trial
Outbreak: Carson City
Center for Disease Non-Control
Outbreak: Carson City
Discovered
Stand-off
On The Road
The Ranch
A Stranger Among Them
Hope for a Cure
American Epidemic- The Resistance
Boiling Point
Mutiny
Resurgence
Inside Base 42
The Stakeout
Against All Odds
Intruder
Good Samaritan
Leverage
Cell Block
Revolution
The Aftermath
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Prologue: An Urgent Message
Monday: June 15, 2015
To: theodore.robbins1@cdc.gov
From: joshua.griffin@hhs.nevada.gov
Dr. Robbins,
The situation is imminent, and despite our best efforts, the population of Nevada cannot be contained. The National Guard has gone above and beyond what we've asked of them, but I've received word of several abandoned Ebola Treatment Centers that have “gone rogue,” if you'll pardon the expression. We don't currently know who is in charge of them. Travel throughout the state is limited, and we've lost contact with many of our centers.
One such center was a former military outpost referred to as Base 42. We had a total of 11 treatment centers there with 29 hospital personnel. Last they reported, they were dangerously close to overcapacity with approximately 1,000 people quarantined.
We were guaranteed military support to keep these treatment centers under control, but this does not seem to be the case any longer. I believe that the scope of this outbreak has gone beyond anything we could have imagined possible in the US, let alone Nevada. It is the opinion of our team that the federal government has been astonishingly slow in responding to this outbreak, similar to their delayed response to the epidemic in West Africa. And for the life of me, I can't figure out why.
I understand that the CDC is doing all it can to not only contain the outbreak, but to operate centers and provide control and prevention. That is why I wish to provide the most frank assessment of our current situation. The statewide quarantine mandated by the federal government has made the situation worse, and compromises our ability to combat the disease.
In addition to an abundant lack of resources and personnel, we've received reports of “bodies littered on the streets” as well as “sick men, women, and children dying outside of overwhelmed clinics.” This is simply unacceptable. We have done our best to try to figure out how and why the disease has spread so quickly and easily, and our only hope is that the epidemic has reached its peak.
Just to give you some perspective, Nevada has a population of 2.8 million. Roughly three percent of the population has been infected given our best estimates. That makes a total of 90,000 infections and around 55,000 reported deaths. I can't even believe the numbers when I read them. It's astonishing.
We need urgent intervention on the part of the CDC, HHS, and the White House to manage this crisis. I fear that with further delay, the epidemic could spread beyond state borders, even with the supposed travel ban and quarantine put in place.
My team and I are currently housed in a lab, unable to leave. The power has been going out intermittently, and I fear that even e-mail correspondence will soon be unavailable. If there is any doubt that an outbreak of this magnitude could occur in the US, let my message be evidence of it. Please do everything in your power to bring relief to this state before it's too late. We need more assistance, or I can guarantee the situation will get much worse.
Sincerely,
Dr. Joshua Griffin
Department of Health and Human Services
Health Division
4150 Technology Way
Carson City, NV 89706
-----------------------------------------------------------
Tuesday: June 16, 2015
To: joshua.griffin@cdc.nevada.gov
From: theodore.robbinsl@cdc.gov
Dr. Griffin,
I am greatly concerned, as you are, about the size and scope of this deadly epidemic. As you may know, we're dealing with similar circumstances in Florida, Texas, and California as well. In all instances, the outbreak started out small. The carriers were easily identifiable: returning military personnel from West Africa under Operation United Assistance. We've since updated our approach to the disease and are trying to disseminate the proper information to the public.
Unfortunately these things take time, as does an effective response to a disease like this. The federal government is doing all it can to contain it. In their haste, dispatched health personnel contracted the disease themselves in their effort to provide assistance. This has now changed the government's response to the crisis.
They believe that it is in the best interest of public safety that infected areas are sealed off and quarantined. Due to the rampant nature of the disease, official policy dictates that “no one goes in and no one comes out.” This, again, is unfortunate for those in infected areas, but it is only a temporary measure meant to ensure containment.
I will push all of your immediate concerns up the chain for I have recently stepped down as director of the CDC due to some administrative reshuffling. My replacement, former CDC Assistant Director, Ronald Taylor, has been appointed now, and I would urge that you contact his office ASAP. On a promising note, I'm aware of some encouraging advancements in treatment that may soon provide a cure and render this epidemic nonexistent. I will personally let you know what I hear in this department.
Please understand that I'm gravely concerned about everything that you've told me, and I wish there was more that I could do. I'd advise that your team remain away from the general population until long after the outbreak has peaked. Please stay in touch, and I will do my best to provide guidance in my currently limited role with the CDC.
Respectfully,
Dr. Theodore Robbins
United States Center for Disease Control and Prevention
1600 Clifton Road
Atlanta, Georgia 30333
Base 42
Nevada, United States: Where it all started
Following the outbreak, Ebola hit Nevada hard, spreading through cities and towns like wildfire. On the outskirts of Sun Valley, far removed from the population of nearby Reno, there was a small Air Force base chosen to house several Ebola treatment centers, known as ETUs. Prior to its role as a quarantine station, the base was a highly secretive outpost that housed several high-tech drones.
Chosen for its remoteness and security, Base 42 was initially an ideal place to set up treatment centers, far from the public eye. In an amazing act of foresight, the Health and Human Services Department worked with the Army
Corps of Engineers and constructed the centers months before the official outbreak.
It was a precautionary measure, almost as if they had been anticipating an epidemic of some kind. The $300 million project created treatment centers that could house hundreds of patients. Behind the heightened security walls of the base were long, newly constructed warehouses enclosed by clear plastic tarp hanging on all sides instead of walls.
One of the many off-site treatment centers set up around the country, Base 42 had been outfitted with enough equipment to meet any threat. It had a surplus of HAZMAT suits, medical supplies, food, and water, all stored in secure facilities. They had decontamination and detection equipment and enough cleansing and hygienic products to last a year. Base 42 was officially a military installation, so there were plenty of weapons.
A small crew of Air Force personnel had occupied the base before the National Guard was sent in to provide civilian transportation to the base as well as security and manpower once the treatment centers were operational.
The soldiers, a platoon of thirty military police, had received orders to report to the base weeks prior to the outbreak as part of a training drill. Base 42 was considered the “Fort Knox” of Sun Valley. None of the soldiers had ever been inside its walls before. Few of them even knew that the place existed.
Before the outbreak, several health specialists were sent to the base only to marvel at the remote fortress filled with unoccupied treatment centers. They could understand choosing a remote location from which to treat infected patients and assumed their presence at the base was classified. This was verified the day they arrived by the resident medical officer of the base, Captain Sherman Wallace, a tall, pencil-thin man with short, graying hair.
“No one is supposed to know about this place,” he said. “Not your friends, not your families, and especially not the news media. No one. Upon signing non-disclosure agreements, you are legally forbidden to discuss what we're doing here with anyone outside these walls.”
The main reason, they were told, was to prevent inciting public panic. If nearby residents got word that major treatment centers were being constructed near them, it would compromise the safety and security of the base, along with their mission—or so they were told. In a later briefing from a Major Thomas Greene, they were told that such measures were precautionary.
For the first time since arriving, Ebola was discussed. They were to train and prep for a potential outbreak. They received classes on bio-hazards and containment of biological agents from army chemical specialists. It was all very intensive, and for two weeks, they learned how to properly handle Ebola patients. From that point, they had expected to leave the base and be on call. The potential of an Ebola outbreak seemed an unlikely scenario. Soon enough, they would find out they were wrong.
***
Bill Hodder awoke in the early morning and immediately grabbed a cigarette from a small bedside nightstand. It was nice to have his own room, separate from all the daily noise and aggravation. He wasn’t a military man, and running a military outpost was harder than he imagined, especially when trying to maintain order among a population the size of a small town.
Two months after the outbreak, Bill had become increasingly less trustful of people, even his own men. His close team of “enforcers” was tasked with carrying out his orders. The rules he had established on the base had grown more excessive over time, to the point of brutality. Strict enforcement of the rules, he believed, was the only way they would make it. Their supplies were limited, their resources were dwindling, and fear of Ebola was continually in the air.
One method he had employed to keep the population under control was the use of public trials, often used to shame offenders. Sometimes tactics involved humiliation, other times they were far worse. After a recent theft from their food storage, Bill had the accused brought into the “public square” of the base to answer for his crimes. The man, a trusted guard, was convicted of stealing food during his shift. Bill had his enforcers promptly hack both of the man’s hands off. After this public display of “justice,” there hadn’t been any more incidents of theft on the base.
Sitting upright and shirtless on a bed in the small quarters that he had made his own, he ran his hand through his thick, dark-brown hair. He felt the stubble on his sunken face, realizing that he hadn't shaved in days.
He was a moderately fit man but hadn't exercised in weeks. His daily duties were where the real work was. By the end of the day, he could barely see straight. He was responsible for over two hundred people, and it had long taken a toll on both his mental and physical state. The changes in him were noticeable to all who knew and feared him.
At the beginning, Base 42 had everything that they needed, but since then, things had drastically changed. Gone were the military personnel, outside communications, vehicles, and any semblance of sanity. Through it all, Bill’s vision remained. He was determined to hold onto unquestioned power, and no one was going to stand in his way. The seizure of Base 42 had not been without its share of bloodshed, but they had taken the base nonetheless.
Bill took another drag of his cigarette. The nicotine helped calm him and allowed him to think more clearly. The goal was to ensure their survival, each and every day. He looked around his small, airtight quarters, taking another long drag. He didn't mind the smoke. The only thing he feared was germs. The thought of getting infected truly terrified him. He had seen the effects of the disease firsthand: the shaking, near-comatose bodies of blistered and bloodied souls, writhing in agony as their insides poured out of every open orifice. He refused to allow himself to die in such a hopeless and painful way.
He threw on some clothes: T-shirt, jeans, and jacket, put his hat on, grabbed a nearby rifle, and left the room. He walked down the tile floor of the hallway, where there were rooms with other sleeping quarters. At the end of the hall was a doorway that led outside to the concrete pavement that made up the base grounds. Bill missed the grass, the trees, the mountains, and open roads of Reno. All they had to look at were the walls that surrounded them—barricades that reached forty feet tall. The base was full of empty hangars, maintenance sheds, and conference rooms all ghostly in their isolation and emptiness.
Outside the base, he believed that the world was purging itself of the human population, much like it did during the bubonic plague, which had wiped out thirty percent of the world’s population. There was no doubt in his mind that history was going to be made by those who survived.
The sun hit Bill's face as he exited the building, causing him to squint. The Ebola treatment centers had long been reduced to ash, and their faint, charred smell still hung in the air. He had ordered the centers burnt, bodies and all, ridding the base of any possible remaining contaminants.
As he strolled across the dirt leading to the mess hall, his trusted enforcer, Specialist Christopher Santos—one of the few disgruntled soldiers he managed to turn—ran up to him, armed and in full military uniform.
“We got an issue,” Santos said.
“What is it?” Bill asked, rubbing his eyes.
“The Russell family. It’s not good.”
Bill stopped and stood with his arms crossed and rifle slung around his shoulder.
“What about them?” he asked.
“Someone tipped us off. The family is hiding something. One of their kids is sick.”
Bill’s eyes widened. “Like sick, sick?”
“That’s what we hear.”
Bill groaned and ran both hands down his scruffy face in frustration. “Unbelievable.” He opened his eyes and pointed authoritatively to Santos. “Round them up and bring ’em to me. Get everyone out of their quarters, and let’s take care of this thing. Immediately.”
Santos nodded enthusiastically and ran off.
Public Trial
The Russell family was in their sleeping quarters, waking up and ready to start the day. Aaron, the father, was dressing by the light of a glow stick hanging from the ceiling by a paracord.
His wife, Judy, was just rising from the small mattress on the bunk bed they shared. Above her was their son, Freddy, and across the room, at the bottom of a bunk all by herself, was their daughter, Sarah.
She hadn’t been feeling well for the past few days, and her fever was rising. Since then, they had concealed her bed by draping a large wool blanket over the top bunk. They wanted to believe her illness was a passing thing and that it could be treated with antibiotics that Aaron had bribed one of the guards for. They hadn’t told anyone about their daughter as the rules dictated. It was for her own protection.
Aaron looked at himself on the small mirror taped to the wall. He, like most of his family, had lost a lot of weight. He had a full beard and thick black hair that sprouted in tufts. Perhaps he would shave that day, although razors were getting low around the base. His wife sat up from the bed, straightening her nightgown. Her long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she had heavy bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. It had been another late night monitoring Sarah’s condition. Judy had rarely left her daughter’s side the past few days.
Aaron saw his wife’s reflection in the small mirror.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“A little tired but okay,” she said in a low, hoarse voice.
“I think you should get some more sleep,” he said, putting a T-shirt on. “I’ll watch Sarah for a little bit. You rest.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, honey.”
“Thanks,” she said, falling onto the mattress on her back.
Aaron looked over to the concealed bed across the room with mixed emotions of hope and dread. He wanted to pull the blanket back and see that his daughter had gotten better. She had to get better. She simply had to. If not, he wouldn’t know what to do.